Code Red
by monochromed
Summary: He was never the jittery type. At least, that was what everyone thought.


**Author's Blabbering: **Because I am _so _inspired today and _so _ignoring my schoolwork, I've decided to write a fic. It's a side story to The Testament and another humorous, randomly-written, plot-less fic. I just love torturing Eriol. Woo-hoo! That should mean something, right? Me writing a side story to The Testament. Yeah, I could see smiles right now. I was actually inspired by a RuTi fic that I've read. Warning: Not beta-ed.

**Disclaimer: **CCS and all of its pretty characters belong to CLAMP.

**Code Red**

"Li, tell me why I'm doing this again."

The chocolate-haired young man fought the urge to laugh out loud, pretending to be casual, as he watched his friend and colleague freak out in front of the full-length mirror. It was definitely amusing. Hilarious, even. But for reasons concerning the attachment of his head to his body, he decided to keep the little comment to himself.

A freaking Eriol Hiiragizawa was not the type to let someone get away unscathed. Most especially in a hotel room on the 20th floor, filled with tension so thick Syaoran could slice it with a knife.

"I think you mentioned something in the lines of 'I love Daidouji Tomoyo' and 'I want to spend my life with her' sort of thing," Syaoran told him patiently, a mocking, playful tone barely concealed in his voice, leaning back on the leather couch.

Eriol glared flatly at his best man, his blue eyes narrowed into slits, before he turned back to the mirror, his hands fiddling with the white silk tie around his neck. "I don't remember saying that."

"Sure, of course not," Syaoran shot back, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Trust Hiiragizawa to deny something that he thinks was embarrassing and awkward and all that jazz. Good old Hiiragizawa pride. "And Nakuru just have a video file showing how much you blabbered in front of Daidouji."

The blue-eyed male's scowl became more pronounced at the remark, his hands tugging his necktie even more. For someone who had been wearing suits nearly half his life, he could not understand why the bloody article of clothing wouldn't even try to cooperate with him that day, just like his brain that had been incoherent since that morning. And just when he was running out of time, for heaven's sake. He vaguely wondered if he had lost his capability to tie the piece of cloth. Or just think clearly at all.

"Really now, Hiiragizawa," Li spoke in a languid voice, playing absently with his flip phone. "Get a chill pill and calm down."

"And this is coming from the man who was freaking out on his wedding day," Eriol retorted, his irritation with the stupid necktie climbing another notch. "Yeah, real smooth, Lord Hypocrite."

"At least I wasn't fighting a losing battle with my own necktie that day."

Yes, Eriol Hiiragizawa was _not_ nervous. At all. Nope. Because Eriol Hiiragizawa _never_ gets nervous. Never. Not in this lifetime or in any. Well, at least, he would never, ever admit it out loud.

No, he wasn't nervous. Just, well, distracted. By the necktie. Yes, that's right.

"You know," Syaoran started loudly again, his voice grating Eriol's nerves. The latter gritted his teeth in frustration, his hands tightening around his ever messed-up tie. "I'm betting all my investments that your brain's just as pathetically disorganized as that tie of yours."

"Just shut up, Li. I really don't need—"

"'Course not. Not when you only have 20 minutes to spare and your necktie still looks like a masterpiece made by a kid."

20 minutes. Eriol frantically glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that time was moving fast. Too fast. Last time he had checked, it was still an hour before that exact time printed in flowing cursive on the ivory-and-gold invitation.

"What the… this clock must be malfunctioning," Eriol commented flatly, staring at his pale, pale reflection on the mirror.

He heard a long, heavy sigh from the other man in the room. "The only thing malfunctioning right now is your brain, Hiiragizawa."

Eriol continued to stare at himself on the mirror, taking in the elegant black tuxedo he was wearing. He had seen himself in a tuxedo before. A lot of times actually. But somehow, this time, seeing himself in a tuxedo felt weird. It could be the godforsaken tie but he wasn't sure. Maybe he should've chosen midnight blue. Maybe wearing black was a mistake. Maybe this was _all _just a big mistake.

What the hell was he _doing_? And what was Tomoyo _thinking_ when she had said 'yes' to his proposal anyway?

Maybe he'd feel better if he found out that Tomoyo was at least freaking out just as much as he was.

"Hiiragizawa, calm down. Really, you're worse than a pregnant woman in labor."

"I am calm, Li."

"Geez… For someone who could hold a staring contest with Daidouji for an entire hour, you sure are freaking out too much. Are you nervous?"

"No, of course not. Why would _I_ be nervous?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes yet again. Good old Hiiragizawa pride.

"Li, do you think—"

Now, if Eriol was the type who drank a mug of coffee an hour, which actually _was_ the case, he would've jumped out of his skin when Syaoran's phone suddenly rang loudly, loud enough to wake up the dead and rattle his frayed nerves further. Still, he kept his composure and managed to stay calm. If 'calm' had become synonymous now to 'fighting the urge to throw up'.

Somehow, the burning, acidic pit at the bottom of his stomach seemed to grow as he watched the amber-eyed male answer the call.

"Ah, Sakura," Syaoran greeted, an almost invisible blush appearing on his cheeks. The man still blushed over his wife. Eriol rolled his eyes inwardly. "Yes, he's fine. Don't worry… No, he hasn't thrown up yet… Yes, he's just peachy…" A pause. "Huh? But why? Is there something wrong?"

Eriol's blood froze at the word. Wrong. Yes, wrong. There was _something _wrong. He could feel his anxiety, blood pressure and adrenaline rush rising faster than the speed of light and the next thing he knew, he was pacing in front of the mirror, trying to bore a hole on the carpeted floor. Syaoran stared at him, an eyebrow raised in amusement and disbelief, as he listened to his wife.

Was his list of "Things That Could Go Inevitably and Horribly Wrong" slowly turning into reality? What if Nakuru attacked the cake even before the wedding could start? What if someone suddenly objected in the ceremony? What if he had forgotten his vows in the middle of the ceremony? What if a disaster happened? What if someone tried to assassinate them?

What if Tomoyo was having second thoughts? What if Tomoyo backed out?

Maybe he should've agreed with her on the theme of the party in favor of an assurance or something. Assurance that she wouldn't back out on the last minute.

_Really_, what was Tomoyo thinking to even agree to marry him?

"Sakura, I'll call you later," Syaoran's sharp voice pulled Eriol out of his internal hypothetical debate. "Someone needs to take a heavy dose of tranquilizer. Yes, I promise. Bye."

The best man got up to his feet, stormed over to the brooding groom and grabbed the white tie, half-strangling the CEO, forcing him to stop pacing. Either he got tired seeing his friend wrestle with the inanimate object or he just wanted it to get over the issue with the dratted, bloody tie. Eriol stared at him, dazed.

"Hiiragizawa, snap out of it!" Syaoran told him dully, lightly slapping his face as if to bring back his senses, then turned to fixing the wrinkled tie. Maybe he could use a hair iron to straighten the cloth out. "One, everything's fine. Two, everything's fine. Three, Daidouji's taking it calmly so calm down because everything's _fine_!"

"I _am _calm," Eriol echoed his reply earlier, his voice eerily serene and unruffled.

"Of course. You just look like a nervous wreck, that's what."

"I am _not_ nervous."

"Uh-huh. Defensive much?"

"Li…" Another pause, his blue eyes trained on the white ceiling of the room. "What if—"

"NO!" Syaoran interjected, not caring that Eriol certainly looked like he was going to faint or throw up in any moment. Or both, throw up _then _faint.. "We will not start on your 'what ifs', Hiiragizawa!"

"ERIOL!"

And that was exactly the moment when Eriol, whose necktie had been successfully fixed by Syaoran, suddenly bolted out of the VP for Marketing's grasp upon hearing the double doors bursting open and Nakuru's chirpy and bright voice echoing in the room. And much to the two executives' bemusement, the dark-haired CEO ran for the bathroom as if the dogs of Hades were after him.

Nakuru turned to Syaoran, confusion and wonder written all over her face. "What happened? Did I say something? I just called his name."

A horrible groan from inside the bathroom and Syaoran grimaced and rolled his eyes, pulling out his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He dialed a few numbers, held the phone over his ear and waited for a few seconds.

"Uh, hello? Yeah, Touya-san? Code red here. I need help."

And just when it was already time for Hiiragizawa to wait out in front of the altar, dressed in his black tuxedo, the brothers-in-law had to drag out the ghostly pale groom out of the bathroom who was _not _at all nervous and _not _at all having another internal hypothetical debate. After all, Touya and Syaoran knew that Tomoyo, although usually a cheery, light-hearted and kind young woman, could do many, many scary things when provoked.

Worse than what a freaking Eriol Hiiragizawa could do when he was provoked.

Another one added to his list of "Things That Had Already Gone Inevitably and Horribly Wrong".


End file.
